The More Boys She Meets
by BabyBeaver
Summary: Another songfic. Carrie Underwood's The More Boys I Meet. One of the girls, since I'm not a fan of slash, but I'm making you read it to find out which one.


**While listening to my sister's Carrie Underwood CD (Carnival Ride), I was reminded of Speaking of Jealousy, specifically when Fillmore and Ingrid ponder Ingrid's "soul mate," so to speak. **

**This one is soon after the episode with Tina and Toby and the dance competition/chili cook-off…**

**I know Ingrid doesn't have a dog, but let's pretend. :D**

**Bold are the lyrics; **_**italicized **_**is thoughts or emphasis, and ****underlined**** is emphasis.**

_**NOT MINE.**_

**_EDIT: November 25, 2007: Whoops. I said "years" when I meant "months." It's changed now._**

* * *

"Hey, Ari?" Ingrid inquired, plopping down on the couch next to her sister, who set aside her sketch pad and looked at her younger sister. "What's on your mind, Ingrid?" 

"This might sound weird, but…" Ingrid dipped her head, peering up at Ariella almost ashamedly before continuing, "how does a person tell what their "type" is?"

Ariella's brow furrowed even as she grinned. "The brilliant Ingrid Third wants to know her 'type'?"

"I've just been wondering recently," Ingrid defended herself, green eyes flashing.

"All right," Ariella laughed. "Well, just think harder. Are there any guys at school you get along with really well?"

The hall clock announced the hour, and Ingrid jumped. "I'm gonna be late for school!"

"Well, you'd better get moving," Ari laughed, calling out, "Keep thinking" as Ingrid sprinted out the front door.

**This boy here wants to move too fast  
****He sees my future as having a past  
****Well, I don't think so  
****I don't think so**

Unconsciously, Ingrid followed her sister's advice as the neighborhood whizzed past, barely registering on her retinas as she rushed to get to school.

The athletes were a no-go—most cared only for appearances and tended to go through girls the way O'Farrell went through film when trying to photograph his butt. It seemed there were new girls on the jocks' arms every week, and Ingrid wasn't especially thrilled by the thought of being one of those girls.

**That boy there, well, he's playin' the fool  
****He thinks he's funny and he thinks he's cool  
****Well, I don't think so  
****I don't think so**

Then there were guys who weren't considered popular but tried to be—the guys who tended to try too hard to make it to the top of the food chain. Another "Pfft, no" idea that Ingrid crossed off her list.

**Cheap date, bad taste  
****Another night gone to waste  
****Talkin' 'bout nothin' in so many ways  
****It's not like I'm not tryin', 'cause I'll give anyone a shot once**

_Why does dating have to be so ridiculous? It's kind of pointless—half the guys at school haven't got enough money for the kinds of things most girls go crazy for. And it's awkward unless you have something in common that you can talk about. Otherwise it's one of you talking and the other falling asleep or faking fascination. What a waste. But,_ she figured, _since I'm a pretty nice person, I suppose I'd be willing to make exceptions…_

**And I close my eyes  
****And I kiss that frog  
****Each time finding  
****The more boys I meet,  
****The more I love my dog **

As she thought it over, Ingrid realized she would probably always find dating awkward—with her attitude and expectations, it was possible that no boy would ever strike her as Prince Charming.

Which was completely fine—after all, who knew? Maybe she'd end up more attached to her career than to a boyfriend or spouse.

**Here's this guy, thinks he's bad to the bone  
****Wants to pick me up and take me home  
****Well, I don't think so  
****I don't think so**

**Cage fights, Play Station  
****Cage fights, Raider Nation  
****Oversized pants with an ego to match  
****It's not like I'm not tryin'  
**'**Cause I'll give anyone a shot once**

**And I close my eyes  
****And I kiss that frog  
****Each time finding  
****The more boys I meet  
****The more I love my dog**

And then there was the rest of the male population, none of whom grabbed Ingrid's attention.

Oh, sure, she and the Safety Patrol boys got along okay, but most were not what she pictured her "soul mate" to be: Danny was too "look at me, I'm so funny"-ish, almost to the point of being immature; Vallejo too stressed; Anza probably taken by most of the female populations' imaginations; and Fillmore… her partner.

**Why can't they be like the ones that mean everything to me:  
****Warm and loyal, open and friendly?**

At least, that's what they always insisted.

Had Ariella been hinting at something by asking about boys Ingrid got along with?

Looking back over the conversation, Ingrid realized Ari's face had been bright, her eyes sparkling and her attempt at hiding her grin unsuccessful. Had she meant Fillmore?

Ingrid shook her head, trying to shoo the thought away, but it returned. With a sigh, she gave up trying to block it out. _All right, think it through,_ she told herself. _What is it about Fillmore that so many people find fascinating? His delinquent past? Possibly. His skill at catching perps? Another possibility. His dashing good looks—wait, what? I did __not__ just think_ _that. Did I?_

The Girl Genius's eyes widened at the thought and then narrowed as she told herself, "Not going there. He's my best friend."

_And he's the only guy at school you really click with,_ her brain insisted. _He was probably the first one to actually accept you the way you are._

Her thought process was interrupted by Fillmore himself, who was panting just slightly as he declared, "Gee, Third. In your own little world there. I yelled at you three times to hold up and you didn't hear me. Something wrong?"

Ingrid blinked in surprise, then shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"Nice try, Genius," Fillmore scoffed. "I know you—something's wrong. What's up? Family issues?"

With a defeated sigh, Ingrid replied, "Not entirely."

"Then what?" Fillmore frowned.

"I've been thinking…" Ingrid began, glancing at him before letting her gaze wander to the sidewalk as Fillmore prodded, "About?"

Ingrid could feel her face turning red and willed the color to go away as she replied nervously, "Truthfully…um…dating…"

She glanced at her partner to find his eyebrows rising in surprise as he declared, "Wow…That's…different…"

Ingrid frowned. "What do you mean, 'different'?"

Fillmore chuckled. "Relax, Ingrid. Not different in a horrible way, just different. Not what I'd expect you to be thinking about, that's all."

Ingrid's anger melted. "I guess that's an acceptable answer."

"You're welcome." Fillmore grinned. "So why or what exactly have you been thinking?"

"Why have I been thinking?" Ingrid returned, and Fillmore shook his head good-naturedly. "You know what I meant. Gonna share or not?"

"I dunno, it just kinda popped into my head a few days ago…"

"Like after we spent all that time with Tina and Toby looking for their stolen Smoits?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah…"

"So you've been thinking about a dance partner. I hear O'Farrell is, too." He grinned, and she glared at him.

"Cornelius Fillmore," she began, but he interrupted her with, "Relax, Third. I was joking. But if you're taking this so seriously, it seems like you've already got an idea who your 'perfect match' is…"

Their pace had slowed from a canter to a walk, and Ingrid sped it back up to a jog, ignoring Fillmore's question as her face heated up even more.

But Fillmore wasn't daunted; seconds later, he'd caught up with her, grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.

"Embarrassed much?" he smiled, and Ingrid glared and turned a brighter shade of red.

Another chuckle. "That blush is answer enough. What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Ingrid tried, but Fillmore gave her a Look, scoffing, "Ingrid, we're partners. We've both learned to read each other, and you're obviously embarrassed and upset about something. Wanna share?"

"Nope," was the simple response as Ingrid started walking again.

Checking his watch, Fillmore decided to walk and talk: "All right, then let's talk about something else, like, say, Anza and Tehama?"

Ingrid didn't reply, only kept walking, and he tried another topic.

"Danny hasn't tried to take a picture of his butt in awhile…"

Again, no verbal response from his partner, so he tried again.

"Have you ever noticed how Folsom and Raycliff tend to finish each others' sentences?"

"Your point?"

Fillmore smiled. "Hey, you're not mute."

"So they finish each others' sentences. What's your point?" Ingrid was only slightly ticked, and he could hear a tinge of amusement in her question.

"I dunno; people sometimes make fun of others for finishing each others' sentences, sometimes comparing it to married couples."

"We've finished each others' sentences _how many times_ in the past…five months?" Ingrid asked, her face holding a pointed stare.

"And how many of those times have Anza and Tehama and the rest of the Patrol laughed at us for it?"

"How many of those times have we ignored them?" Ingrid countered.

"True. But we've also defended ourselves, which sometimes indicates that we might believe it."

"Fillmore, are you calling us an old married couple?" She was exasperated now, and Fillmore laughed, "Maybe. Everybody else seems to."

"Cornelius, that is the dumbest excuse on the planet and you know it."

"So?"

"So stop saying it."

"Maybe you should stop being so defensive and secretive."

"Maybe you should stop talking."

"Am I bothering you?" he asked innocently, smiling.

"Only a little," was the response, dripping with sarcasm.

"I thought you liked my points."

"When did I ever say that?"

"Oh, you've never said it, but I can see it on your face."

"So you're a psychic?"

"Maybe," he grinned, drawing out the vowels and watching with glee as his partner's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Like right now, I can tell that you really wish I'd be quiet."

"No, really?"

"Third, quit with the sarcasm."

"Cornelius, quit with the speaking."

"But then I wouldn't be able to watch your face change."

"Thank you for changing the subject."

"You're welcome."

"We might be late for school."

"Another change of subject."

"Fillmore."

Her tone was harsh, angry, and Fillmore closed his eyes for a moment to think.

"Alright, well, am I allowed to guess?"

"Guess what?"

His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he chuckled, "The person you consider your soul mate."

"If you must," was the relenting, sighed reply.

"One of the athletes, perhaps?"

Ingrid didn't respond, but he saw her expression change for just a second and interpreted, "All right, never mind. They're too competitive and narcissistic, huh? Well, what about…"

A few minutes later, after exhausting his list of possible soul mates for Ingrid (getting disgusted looks with each suggestion) and having reached the school, Fillmore sighed.

"Well, that about covers it, doesn't it?" he asked, opening the door and letting Ingrid walk into the building ahead of him.

"I suppose so," was the response as they made their way to HQ.

As he opened that door, too, Fillmore declared, "Hold up a minute."

Ingrid stopped begrudgingly, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at him expectantly.

He closed the door, leaned against it, and motioned to it, earning him a confused expression from his partner.

He smiled, interpreting, "Let me guess: 'What'?"

Ingrid only nodded, and he suppressed a chuckle as he explained, "I forgot about the Safety Patrol. Of course, Danny's too bizarre and I suppose Vallejo's too stressed out to be interested in relationships. And Anza…"

"Already taken, I'm sure," Ingrid filled in quickly and meaningfully.

"Right. So who's left?" he asked, frowning as he remembered and Ingrid's face turned pink again.

"_Me_?" he choked out, his jaw dropping.

"You said yourself that everybody seems to think so," Ingrid replied softly, dipping her head and peering up at him almost nervously.

"Hm…" was all Fillmore would utter, and Ingrid's gaze dropped back to the floor.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally stated quietly, "Maybe that's true. We do make a pretty good team…"

"Oh, don't be so modest, Fillmore," came Vallejo's voice from the other side of the door. "You two are the best team I've got, and you know it. You wanna open the door?"

"Not particularly."

"Let me rephrase: Open the door or I'll break it down. And judging by your record, Folsom would probably blame you for it."

"Gee, that's considerate," Ingrid piped up sarcastically, which appeared to annoy Vallejo.

"Third, you may be the smartest kid in school, but—"

"Hey, ease up, _Junior Commissioner_," Fillmore retorted.

"Oh, you're lucky you're on the other side of this door, Fillmore," Vallejo growled, adding, "And you just proved all of us right."

"Huh?"

They could hear Vallejo's palm make contact with his forehead as the older boy explained, "You defended Ingrid. And not like you've defended anybody else before, a different way. More defensively, like Anza defending Tehama."

"Hey!" Anza exclaimed, Tehama's squeak of surprise following.

"Oh, please. We all know you two like each other," Vallejo muttered, sounding close to exploding. "All four of you ought to just admit it, get it over with, and make the rest of us happy."

Fillmore and Ingrid exchanged glances, Ingrid rolling her eyes and somehow keeping the sarcasm from her voice as she replied, "All right, Vallejo. You win. We're more than partners. Happy now?"

A few cheers and whistles erupted from behind the door and they could barely hear Vallejo answering, "You have no idea."

* * *

**Started it a LONG time before it got posted, but never wrote down the date.**

**I know there's a long section without lyrics, but I used the lyrics, right? xD**

**Anyway. Turned out to be 2158 words with the lyrics. Without the lyrics it's, like, 19-hundred-something-words. Either way, it's approximately 2000 words.**

**Yes, it flips around a little and the ending is weird, but if you're familiar with my other fics, you're used to that, right? xD**

**No, I've not stopped OMSM, it's just on hold because I've got Writer's Block.**


End file.
